


Family Matters

by MoonFire1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: By the Grace of God verse, Family Bonding, Fluff, Forgiveness, Gen, God ain't here for you to screw up His plans, Protective Chuck Shurley, Reunions, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Which Explains a Lot, whenever Chuck gets bored he decides to destroy the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-17 02:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonFire1/pseuds/MoonFire1
Summary: Someone comes back from vacation. That same Someone wants to meet the youngest member of His family. Of course, He has a brother wallowing in self doubt to contend with.





	1. Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheRiverScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRiverScribe/gifts), [nathyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/gifts).
  * Inspired by [After the Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383168) by [TheRiverScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRiverScribe/pseuds/TheRiverScribe). 



> All praise and glory belong to The River Scribe and the wonderful 'By the Grace of God' series.

In the beginning, there was the Word. The Word became flesh, and assumed a name. The Word died for all, and the name was changed through the ages.

Jesus (as He was now called) had earned a vacation, and left with His Father’s blessings and assurances that all would be well. Books would be written. Nothing would be forgotten or left to chance.

Truly, He hadn’t intended to be gone that long, but the multiverses were fascinating. At the same time, He should have realized that He and His Father shared the same sense of humor and despair.

The reunification between His Father and His Aunt was well overdue. Balance restored in ways neither could have predicted.

“Son. There is so much I need to tell you.”

“Sounds good, Dad.” If Jesus gave his Aunt a high-five on the way to the pocket bar where His Father liked to dwell, there was no one to comment. His Aunt’s laughter was beyond beautiful to hear.

“So, after you left, I kind of got . . . stuck  . . .”

“ . . .did you decide to destroy the world again?”

~             ~             ~             ~

“You’re doing a good job, little brother.”

Gabriel did _not_ jump out of his skin at the rather unexpected appearance of his visitor. In the same respect, he did _not_ let out a muted squeak of surprise.

Dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners, humor and warmth dancing within. A hand gripped Gabriel’s shoulder, rubbing at tension no one else could perceive.

Alright, so maybe he had been a _little_ startled, but who could blame him? His arms were full of sleeping fledgling and pup.

His fidgets hadn’t woken Sam, something for which Gabriel was thankful. The boy’s nightmares were slowly easing over the long months of patient healing, but sleep fought him on a good day.

Morpheus raised his head long enough to sniff at the visitor before flopping back down.

“I’m glad you think so,” Gabriel responded finally, lightly stroking through Sam’s hair.

“How could I not?” The gaze moved from the angel to the child. If anything, the warmth shown only increased.

Gabriel could have listed many reasons (from the past year _alone_ ), but his visitor wasn’t interested in his regrets.

_You are forgiven, little brother. It is past time that you forgave yourself._

“Forgiveness is your shtick after all – ow!” Gabriel rubbed at his side, near where a feather had been lightly plucked.

“Be serious, Gabriel. I know what has happened.” Eons worth of knowledge passed between the two within the span of a breadth. “I know what you did; I know why you ran, returned, and ultimately died for my people. Father restoring you and the others fills me with joy.” The angel was hugged to the side of the Man – well, not truly a Man but no other word would suffice.

“I missed you,” Gabriel said, leaning against Jesus, fully relaxed in ways he had not known for centuries. “I’m just trying to do better by everyone.”

“Have you not heard anything I have spoken?” The reproof was gentle, full of the same good humor. “ _You already have_.”

Sam lightly shifted in Gabriel’s arms, but did not awaken. Jesus leaned down and lightly kissed the child on his forehead before standing.

“You’re leaving.” Soft words, flat tone. Jesus gave Gabriel a Look.

“Only until your charge awakens. I look forward to seeing him grow.” The Man vanished between one breath and the next, the warmth brought by His presence lingering. Sam shifted in Gabriel's arms again, restless. Morpheus woke at the disturbance and licked over Sam's face, soothing his dreams.

Gabriel loved Sam so much in that moment, his chest actually _hurt._  Two stubborn humans had thwarted Fate at every turn, upended his Father's plans without remorse, and somehow everything was restored as it should have been from the beginning. Maybe this had been in the plan after all, to relearn how to love like an angel, yet forgive with humanity. 

“Oh kiddo,” Gabriel breathed softly, looking down at the sleeping child, “we’re going to work twice as hard pranking all of my siblings when you grow up.”

_I heard that, Gabriel._

**_You were meant to!_ **

//end//


	2. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, little one,” He said softly, infinite love and healing flowing over the small ball of light, “such suffering should have not been your fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was finished, and then my hand slipped.

A soul, bright yet seared with scars, rested between Jesus’s hands. “Oh, little one,” He said softly, infinite love and healing flowing over the small ball of light, “such suffering should have not been your fate.”

The scarring wasn’t the worst He or His Father had ever seen yet would not diminish without His intervention. Sam Winchester held the wretched distinction of worst suffering experienced by any of His Father’s creations. How fortunate that Grace truly had brought forth the brightest creation in all the multiverses, but the cost rendered prior still brought tears to His eyes.

Slowly, patiently, the remnants left of fire, assault, _agony_ vanished between his hands. The soul took form and a young man stood before Him, blinking tears from his eyes. The young man knew Who stood before him.

“You are safe,” he was told in the gentlest voice he had ever heard. “No ill shall befall you again.”

Adam Milligan took a deep, shuddering breath. He had no idea how much time had passed. He didn’t know where Michael was – and honestly had no desire to find out. The other, on the other hand . . .

“Is Sam okay?” The words fell out, unbidden. He hadn’t known either of his brothers for long, but Sam had tried his hardest to protect him in the Cage, redirecting the wrath of two furious archangels onto himself. Centuries had passed before his brother had vanished from sight (and hope had left his heart).

“More than.” Jesus drew the young man close and brushed a kiss against his temple. With the touch, the most pressing of Adam’s questions were answered, and he felt strangely peaceful. “You will see him someday. Dean as well. There is much they will share with you.”

 _How can they do that if I’m dead?_ He must be in Heaven, not that it met any of his mental expectations. No audible choirs, no streets of gold. He saw many roads, different houses, places, and times. It was everything, nothing, and too much, all at once.

No audible answer, but the silence felt almost amused.

Adam mentally shrugged. _Guess nothing’s impossible for Heaven._ He stretched, blessing the absence of pain. “Now what happens?”

A smile was given in response and an arm wrapped around Adam’s shoulders. “I believe your mother has been looking forward to seeing you.”

~

If a small fledgling made his way to a certain corner of Heaven in the future to play with his baby brother, He might just find the time to join in on the same games. 


	3. Pater Familias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You boys have room for one more?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hand slipped again. Nathyfaith's "How It All Changed" inspired part of this chapter. Check it out: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10398129

John Winchester had heard his sons’ laughter before, but never had the laughter been so light, free from worry.

His younger son, now an angel (a concept that made his head hurt) flew above his brothers’ heads, taunting them cheerfully.

His eldest son, frozen in time by interventions of yet another angel, scrambled madly after Sam.  Even as he yelled threats of retribution, no one could mistake the blended love and joy for anything else.

His youngest son, the one he had tried so hard to protect from the horrific legacies that haunted the Winchesters, played his allegiance between the other two, assisted by a candy snapping archangel.

On a good day (and in Heaven, there were finally more good days than bad), the guilt over his mistakes tucked away in the back of John’s mind.

He had done his best – at least, that was what he told himself. Mary would eventually rejoin him in Heaven and John didn’t look forward to the second reception he would receive.

It wasn’t that he had completely lied to her, upon their first reunion in spirit. But neither had he told her the full truth.

 _Must be a Winchester tradition_ , he thought to himself with a mental snort. Mary hadn’t been completely truthful with him either in terms of her family history, her own battles with the demonic, and the goddamned d _eal_ she had made to save his life, which set the stage for her eventual murder and the family’s spiraled path among the darkness.

Maybe at this point it no longer mattered. According to Ash and the prophet Kevin, the cycles of destruction were mostly ended. New hunters had stepped up, taking the reins from the Winchesters, allowing for the closest thing to peaceful existence that any of them could ever have hoped for.

John watched his sons playing and closed his eyes against the tears he felt welling up.

_They deserved so much better from me._

“Why don’t you play with them?”

John jumped and bit off a curse. “Christ, did you have to—“

“—that _is_ my name,” the other Man said mildly, humor in his voice. “And yes, I did. Maudlin regrets have no place here. Why don’t you join your sons?”

The past wouldn’t change – that much was certain. The fact that a peaceful future loomed before him filled his heart with such longing, John could taste it.

“You think I should?” John asked, voice rough.

“You _know_ you should,” Jesus responded gently. “You are forgiven, John. It is past time to forgive yourself.”

~             ~             ~             ~

“You boys have room for one more?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Sam hovered at eye level, a hand braced on Dean’s shoulder. Adam looked at him curiously, but without apparent anger.

“You really need to ask that?” Dean moved forward, embracing him roughly. John felt Adam do the same from the other side, arms shaking.

“Move over,” Sam said quietly, wriggling his way in.

John Winchester held all his sons in his arms. When the tears welled up once again, he didn’t fight them.

~             ~             ~             ~

“Proud of yourself?” A snapped bag of popcorn was offered from the archangel to the Man.

“Proud of _them_.” Considering the unwarranted burdens of shame and guilt that humanity often burdened themselves with, Gabriel accepted the redirection with grace. To see people overcome _themselves_ was truly glorious.

Heaven could not be Heaven without families coming back together. 


	4. Trespass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much as she would deny it, Billie's hands shook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hand keeps slipping. Oops? :) on a side note, I know Reaper!Billie was killed on the show. Forgive a little artistic license.

Billie had not existed in the universe quite as long as DEATH, but little took her by surprise. Frankly, if anything did surprise her, it was attached to the infinitely-be-damned _Winchesters_. 

It was not in her or any other Reaper’s nature to be sentimental. They were created for a specific purpose and fulfilled that purpose without fail, most of the time. The absence of Death, after the elder of the two Winchester brothers failed in the simplest of tasks, upending flawless universal order in one diverted swoop of a scythe, continued to grate.

She took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. The act, superfluous on a bad day, failed to render the same calming effects she had witnessed in many mortal lives over the ages. The younger Winchester, turned into a fledgling. The elder Winchester was permanently under another angel’s protection.  


She could wait. Patience was more than a virtue and there would be a moment when they were unguarded. A moment was all she needed for proper order to be restored without threat of Winchester interference, ever again --- 

“They are beyond your control.” 

She did not jump, nor did she deign to turn her head in acknowledgement of her . . . visitor. Yes. The politest term she could think for Him.  


Her surroundings changed and she stood in . . . Nothing.  


Nothing in sight. Nothing beneath her feet. Nothing she could touch.  


The Empty. 

Had the means been available, she might have gasped. Maybe even cried out before anguish ( _and any other thoughtmemorysensation_ ) ripped from her into the nothingness.  


~ 

Finding solid ground beneath her once again, Billie spun furiously around, eyes flashing. “How d—”  


“Silence,” He responded. His tone remained soft but she couldn’t meet his eyes for more than a second. He could erase her more effectively from existence than she could ever dream of doing to those who cheated natural order.  


Chuck took in his own deep breath. “You have not forgotten why you were created,” he continued, “yet persist in failing to remember Who allowed your creation, when Life began.”  


“I have followed ALL the mandates and directives Death gave us—”  


“You cannot circumvent My will.” The rest of Billie’s words stuck in her throat. For the first time in her conscious memory, she was terrified.  


“It’s funny, when someone has existed as long as I,” Chuck continued. “Death did not create me. I, and my Sister, created him. He will be given form again – at some point.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “It doesn’t hurt for him to consider the follies of his own manipulations.”  


Billie glared at Chuck, but remained silent. It seemed she could be taught a lesson after all.  


“Using Sam Winchester as means for Dean Winchester to assume Cain’s role was his most foolish move.” Chuck’s words turned thoughtful, melancholic. “Honestly, _I_ saw what was coming – and I did not intervene with it.”  


Death, in all honesty, had needed a holiday of sorts. It had also been past time to cope with the ramifications of his decisions regarding Amara, and certainly time to give the Winchesters a chance to scream at him face to face, knowing exactly who he was.  


“You were planning to confine them in the Empty upon the end of their natural lives. I thought you should experience your own condemnation,” Chuck concluded.

Were she actually human, Billie might have swallowed hard. “Are you sending me back there?”  


“Not yet.”  


Warning received. Time would tell if it would be heeded. Chuck vanished from one moment to the next.  


Much as she would deny it, Billie’s hands shook.  


~ 

Amara was _giggling._  


Chuck couldn’t blame her. The sight of His Son cradling both of the Winchesters in his arms as they slept truly defined the word ‘adorable’.  


“Is it too soon to engage in loving blackmail?”  


Jesus glanced up, met His Aunt’s eyes (ceiling notwithstanding) and winked.


	5. Wayward Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To quote the quintessential Kansas song 'Carry On Wayward Son' -- "Lay your weary head to rest; don't you cry no more."

“You do well to not approach him.”

Lucifer stood out of sight and perception of Gabriel’s flock. He could not approach – he _would_ not approach. Michael would undoubtedly earn forgiveness centuries before the thought even dare cross Lucifer’s mind. He knew that and he understood it.

Some things – _many_ things – were simply unforgiveable.

Grace enveloped Lucifer’s vessel – warm and _pure_. It had been so long since he had known the warmth of his kin, the love of his Father, the ability to let the mask fall away, unneeded.

“I won’t go anywhere near them,” he whispered. “But still I ---”

 _You long for your brethren._ A hand, wrist forever scarred, tipped Lucifer’s face up, forcing him to meet His eyes. _Would it surprise you to know they also long for you?_

Lucifer roughly shoved the hand away. “What does it matter?”

“More than you know.”

_Time will pass._

_Wounds will heal._

_You will come home._

"'Home'," Lucifer spat bitterly. "What does 'home' even mean?" 

He turned. His visitor had vanished. 

_\--_

Of course, nothing could be simple in Lucifer's life. He ruthlessly turned away from the knowledge given to him, ignoring promised salvation.

The pain was too deep, the hurt all too fresh, for anything different to seem feasible.

Time had been his enemy, but Time would now be his unspoken friend.

\--

**_I thought you hated me._ **

_I hated the abomination the Mark created of you._ The Andromeda galaxy teemed with stars that had been playmates for Lucifer and the other angels in their youth. Circling a dying red dwarf, Lucifer imprinted the solar spectrum within his memory. Everything was bound to cycles, including time, and he no longer wished to miss what he used to cherish.

_**Father --** _

_Loves you more than you know. The Cage wrought horrors upon you. To Him, the gulf that breaches your trust renders worse._

Lucifer darted off again, unable to listen to the words.

Yet.

\--

He lay back, cradled within the grace that gave him life.

"My son." A kiss brushed against his head. "My son. You are Home."

The old pain lingered, like a phantom limb. Unnecessary, even hated. The memories undoubtedly would remain, but the joy grew infinitely stronger.

_**I am. I AM HOME.** _

//end//


	6. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His healing was almost finished, and it was time for something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have come to the end of this story. Thanks for being with me on this journey, and double thanks to TheRiverScribe for letting me play in her sand box.

“This is lovely, Son.” Chuck’s fingers gently touched the knitted shawl draped around Lucifer’s shoulders. “Where did you get it?”

“Like you don’t know,” Lucifer scoffed. The old misery was banished from his voice, but he lacked patience for his Father’s games.

“Perhaps I’d like to see it through your eyes,” Chuck responded gently, without reproach.

_Trust me as you did so long ago._

Lucifer sighed. “If I must ---”

“—it is your choice, Son. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

Perhaps the blessing of a newly healed eidetic memory was the fact that every nuance of the interaction was lovingly preserved. No evil or darkness could twist it to something it was not.

~             ~             ~             ~

Lucifer could not state what had possessed him to wander into a _church_ of all places. It wasn’t a large building. The pews were simple, the hymnals wretchedly familiar. A gold cross suspended above the head of whomever would stand behind the lectern at the very front of the room.

People throughout untold ages spoke of such places as sanctuaries, havens for weary hearts and hurting souls.

_I have neither heart nor soul and I don’t know what brought me in here._

In his musings, he had failed to notice he was not alone in his reverie.

She didn’t know who the man was. She didn’t ask his name, nor did she share hers. Pain was a universal language, and she had something that might possibly help. “Here you go,” was all she said while depositing what appeared to be bundles of yarn in his arms.

“What is this--?” Lucifer was honestly _baffled_. Most humans, even not recognizing him for his past, instinctively avoided him and other angels, sensing the danger inherent to every encounter.

“Prayer shawl. You looked like you could use one.” A swift quirk of her lips might have generously been called a smile. “Take care.”

~             ~             ~             ~

The thing, bright orange, red, and brown, was . . . _warm_ , in a way Lucifer had forgotten he could feel. Any other story would have had him tracking the woman down, perhaps returning to the church, asking for forgiveness, taking a piece of the promised sanctuary for himself.

Lucifer did none of those things. He swiftly bundled it up, intending to trash it, perhaps even burn it before the church. The _audacity_ of offering him something he knew perfectly well meant nothing . . .

Yet somehow, the shawl stayed with him, and the warmth was never lost.

~             ~             ~             ~

“It brings out your eyes, Luci.”

“Oh shut up,” Lucifer grumbled, giving his oldest brother a dark look. “It was made for me and NOT for you.”

“I know.” Jesus chuckled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Who do you think guided you to that church in the first place? Who else, if not Me?”

Were he human, Lucifer would have forgotten how to breathe. “You---”

“---your healing had barely begun,” He said gently. “You needed something to hold on to. Something given with no expectations or demands.”

Something made by the humans he had scorned, tried so many times to destroy. Something that was _his_. Something _warm_.

 **Thank you**. The words were horrifically insufficient but would have to do.

_No, little brother. I thank **you** for coming home._

~             ~             ~             ~

With a loving, satisfied smile, Chuck closed Lucifer’s book. His healing was almost finished, and it was time for something new.

 

//end//


End file.
